[MD] Suffering the Seeds of Change

[Ian Glendinning]

Hey Dan,

Don't knock "cool".
One of my current favourite metaphors for evolutionary psychology is
"Survival of the Coolest"

For cool, read quality (and then read the book itself, of course) ;-)
Great stories, John and Dan.
Ian

On Tue, Jul 7, 2009 at 6:11 AM, Dan Glover<daneglover at hotmail.com> wrote:
>
>
>
> Hey John
>
> Great story, thank you for sharing. The stories of our lives are (to me) much more interesting and Dynamic than static philosophy. It's like discovering there's still magic in the world when you've long ago given up on any such belief.
>
> They tell me I was baptized a Catholic. I don't remember. I do remember that my mother took us boys to mass a couple times a week but my father never went. In those days the mass was said in Latin. My father said he didn't understand so he saw no reason to go.
>
> After our mother died in a auto crash, there wasn't any more church. I learned later that there was more than a good chance I might have grown up going to a Catholic school had our mother lived. I was very young but the oldest of three boys. I imagine I remember her better than my brothers but I don't know for sure. I seem to remember an old priest telling me how hard life would be without my mother. He was right. But life is hard for everyone.
>
> I saw ZMM on the grocery shelf near the check out. It was 1974. I liked the title and the picture on the cover... so I threw the book on the conveyor belt along with assorted grocery items. I think it cost a buck ninety five... a lot of money back then. I took the book home and started to read and I was instantly enthralled.
>
> I knew it, I kept saying (to myself) over and again. But it was Robert Pirsig's brutal honesty with himself that, for me, lent the most power to the book. Now, many years of living later, I make feeble attempts at doing the same through my own writings. Once in a while I get it right. Most times, though, I don't.
>
> I lent that first ZMM book out to my oldest younger brother. Years later I was helping him move and found it sitting on his bookshelf. I said: Oh, that's the book I loaned you. Did you read it? He said no. It was too hard to get through. He said: I thought it'd be about fixing motorcycles. I said, but it is. He asked if I wanted it back. I said no. Keep it. Maybe you'll pick it up again one of these days. That was twenty years ago or so.
>
> Over the years I've bought and given away over a dozen copies of both ZMM and LILA, I'm sure. I don't think anyone has ever read one. At least no one has ever brought it up to me. I figure if they wanted to talk about the books, they'd say something. Their silence gives me the impression they didn't read it and I don't want to put them on the spot by inquiring.
>
> I guess that's why I enjoy this discussion group. People I know in real life don't really talk about philosophy like we do here, and they look at me funny if I try. Maybe if I was more of an academic... but I'm not.
>
> Years ago we used to camp at a gravel quarry, before the owner of the place rolled his truck and ended up dead, pinned beneath it. My oldest son was about Chris's age. His name is Chris too. I took along a copy of ZMM and read it aloud in the campsite beside the river. We enjoyed it very much... at least I did, and I think he did too. ZMM impressed me as being so much more powerful when read aloud.
>
> Sometimes other people would walk up and hear me reading and stop to listen. Later, they'd say, what was that book you were reading? And I'd show them. They'd say, cool. And walk away. I'd think to myself, cool? I just read you part of one of the most powerful books ever written and all you say is, cool? Don't you want to read it too? Don't you want to write down the title?
>
> But... I ramble. Thanks again for sharing the great story. I enjoyed reading it.
>
> Dan
>
> ----------------------------------------
>> Date: Sat, 4 Jul 2009 11:40:07 -0700
>> From: ridgecoyote at gmail.com
>> To: moq_discuss at moqtalk.org
>> Subject: [MD] Suffering the Seeds of Change
>>
>> for Dan and gav
>>
>>
>>
>> I want to know what became of the changes
>>
>> We waited for love to bring
>>
>> Were they only the fitful dreams
>>
>> Of some greater awakening?
>>
>> I've been aware of the time going by
>>
>> They say in the end its the wink of an eye
>>
>> And when the morning light comes streaming in
>>
>> You'll get up and do it again
>>
>> Amen
>>
>>
>> The Pretender, Jackson Browne
>>
>>
>>
>> This is a story about intellectual seeds - books - stories that unfold in
>> one's brain, send roots down and sprouts up and become more than words on a
>> page or symbols on a screen. Its a short story about a short story that was
>> a powerful seed of change at a time in my life when I was fertile soil.
>>
>>
>> I'd come out of a seven year marriage that went bad early and was
>> quasi-attending Sierra Community College, just on the edges of the foothills
>> of those mountains, about a half hour out of Sacramento.
>>
>>
>> I was working part time in various construction projects, piece work in the
>> valley or odd jobs here and there, going to school full time with no real
>> agenda except pursuit of philosophical excellence in life. I'd always been
>> interested in Philosophy and discussed such with high school friends. Zen
>> and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance had a big impact on my outlook. It
>> resonated in such strong ways that it became a seed of change so that I
>> didn't quite fit with normal social goals anymore.
>>
>>
>> To be honest, I hadn't done much of that before ZAMM, but at least after I
>> had some intellectual confirmation for my lack of enthusiasm for fitting
>> into life in America in the mid 80's.
>>
>>
>> The most telling effect of Pirsig's thought on my life at that time was a
>> little saying I found myself muttering as I wandered the halls of econobox
>> buildings, the wide courtyards and spacious library of this fine institution
>> of lower learning. I'd remind myself often, "use the institution, don't let
>> the institution use you." Pirsig's demonstration-idea of a gradeless,
>> degreeless school inspired this outlook. I wasn't there to jump through
>> those adcademic hoops. It was an enthralling notion and it worked out a
>> lot better in practice than you'd initially think.
>>
>>
>> It worked out especially well at that time for a basically homeless guy with
>> no serious agenda, showering in a late PE class, reading and studying late
>> in the library, and then sleeping at one of several coyote camping sites
>> where my tan VW Rabbit Pickup with camper shell and mattress would slide
>> right under some oaks, blending well with the golden california grasses.
>>
>>
>> I was only accosted once, and a simple and truthful, "Yeah officer my wife
>> kicked me out" was all it took to get out of the glare of the spotlight with
>> a mild admonishment to move along in the morning. The fact that I'd been
>> doing that for three months didn't come up in the conversation.
>>
>>
>> One gray and drizzly day, I picked up a book on the "New!" stand at the
>> library. Bright red garish cover, Big black blocky letters spelling out
>> title and author, Demon Box, by Ken Kesey. I liked One Flew Over The
>> Cuckoo's Nest, book and movie, and was glad to see something new by this
>> author. I sat down in a comfy chair and stayed there for the next five
>> hours. Blew off a couple classes, but hey, you know my motto.
>>
>>
>> The book was irresistible to me because Kesey was very much a central figure
>> in that whole magic summer of love 60's thing which had been a mad object
>> of desire for me my whole adult life. Think of a starving urchin with his
>> nose up against the window of a bakery; that was me going to a Seventh Day
>> Adventist boarding school on the coast with the lights of Santa Cruz
>> twinkling enticingly across Monterey Bay. While trapped there I read
>> everything I could get my hands on about the sixties - experiencing
>> vicariously a world of music, free love and drugs while living a
>> vegetarian, teetotaling, non-dancing Adventist existence and longing to be
>> set free.
>>
>>
>> Demon Box, a collection of short stories, was ideally suited to my lonely
>> longings for those good times long gone. The first story that that
>> captivated my attention, The Day Superman Died introduced me to the
>> person/character of Neal Cassady. It took place on Kesey's Oregon farm and
>> reported Kesey's experience at the news of the death of his old driver and
>> pard. A story of some sadness, exploring the questions I asked myself
>> often, "what happened to the summer of love? And how did it all go so wrong
>> so quickly?"
>>
>>
>> I hadn't read Kerouac's On The Road yet, but I'd certainly heard a lot
>> about it and I hadn't read the Electric Kool Aid Acid Test yet either, but I
>> knew of it and the Merry Pranksters on the good ship Furthur by reputation.
>> I was impressed to learn that they both feature the same Neal at the Wheel -
>> Neal Cassady, called Dean Moriarity by Kerouac and lots of other things by
>> other people. It's rare enough to be at the very center of any social
>> movement, but here was a guy who was so fascinating that he was the center
>> of both the Beat Generation AND right there in the cosmic eye of the
>> psychedelic sixties. Featured hero of Ginsberg's Howl, subject of song by
>> the Grateful Dead, pretty much the most dynamic individual of his age and
>> pretty much forgotten and ignored subsequently.
>>
>>
>> He was all dynamic, Neal was. If you want to make a case for possessing
>> some static quality to balance the dynamic aspects, Neal would be your
>> poster boy. A literary genius who inspired other great writers and
>> songsters, he never published or produced anything significant himself and
>> thus drifted into obscurity after dying of drugs and exposure on those
>> railroad ties in Mexico. Casey Jones had better watch his speed, indeed.
>>
>>
>> That story kept me reading Kesey's book to the end. The end was the longest
>> story in the book, the Title track, as it were, the short story, "Demon
>> Box", which contained the biggest seeds of change for me so far.
>>
>>
>> The story unfolds in a hot tub, at this famous institute in Big Sur, I think
>> it's Esalen, but it was called something else in the story. And I'm not
>> sure who the character of Dr. Klaus Woofner was modeled upon, but he is
>> lecturing his acolytes in the hot tub on the futility of existence. He
>> illustrates his point with a little thought experiment designed to inspire
>> dialogue on the second law of thermodynamics known as Maxwell's
>> Demon.
>>
>>
>>
>> Basically a demon, only today I think I'd call it a daemon, as in background
>> process, controls heated molecules in a way that obviates the rules of
>> entropy. Woofner shows how this demon always takes more energy than he can
>> "create" and draws parallels with the ego-self of the modern man which is
>> slowly running out of steam.
>>
>>
>> Kesey is intrigued and promises to continue the discussion in the morning,
>> but the good bus Further, in which Neal had wandered off to find an old
>> meth cooking buddy in the nearby hills, comes back under the wild man's
>> honking and revving and collects the group for furthur travels and Kesey
>> never sees Woofner again until much, much later.
>>
>>
>> Much much later, Kesey is on his farm, the pranksters all scattered, Neal
>> dead on those train tracks and Ken gets an invitation to attend a
>> psychological convention in Orlando, complete with trip to Disney World, in
>> commemoration of the 20th anniversary of publication of Cuckoo's Nest.
>> Keynote speaker is the famous Klaus Woofner which decides it for Kesey to
>> go.
>>
>>
>> Kesey wrote that book while working the night shift at a mental hospital.
>> The same institute where experimentations with a new drug, LSD, were taking
>> place. He did a little experimenting with the new drug himself, wrote some
>> of his book while on it and shared the experience with his friends and the
>> rest, as they say, is history.
>>
>>
>> Now returning 20 years later to the institute, he finds a lot of things
>> changed, but a lot of things also, depressingly, the same.
>>
>>
>> As Kesey arrives at the institute to be Limo'ed to the airport and whisked
>> with a Dr. of the institute to the convention, a new arrival is admitted. A
>> whirling dervish of teenage girldom, nearly blind with thick coke-bottle
>> glasses and a seeing eye cane festooned with ribbons, decorations and a
>> donald duck head that quacks everytime she takes a swing at an orderly.
>> Kesey is intrigued and amused because she's belting out a Zen chant against
>> her would-be captors, something along the lines of *Namah samanta vajranam
>> chanda maharoshana Sphataya hum traka ham mam*
>>
>>
>> She notices Kesey's notice and bellows at him, "What's yer problem slick,
>> ain't you ever seen anybody on a bad trip before?" Kesey doesn't really
>> have a chance to answer that yeah, he's seen his few, been on a few as well,
>> before she' s hauled off.
>>
>>
>> Orlando turns out depressing. Klaus Woofner's keynote speech turns out to
>> be the same explication of Maxwell's Demon Box that he'd heard before. And
>> though Woofner is now a pink, bald dwarf in a wheel chair, his wit and
>> intellect are sharp and biting as ever. His assessment of the current state
>> of psychological health in America is not a happy one. Kesey, hungover
>> the next morning, misses a chance to reconnect with his old friend and
>> mentor. Again. As well as forgetting to bring something neato back from
>> Disney World. The guilts wash over him on the long ride back and he just
>> gets more and more depressed.
>>
>>
>> When they get back to the institute, he's sitting and waiting for his ride,
>> a photo falls from his bag. It's one of his favorites, one of his son, in a
>> crib, at the back of the bus looking up and out at a world with the trust of
>> a child in his eyes, the trust that says it must be ok to be babysat by a
>> speed freak if dad says its ok. The depression that has been building all
>> day now peaks as he feels the failings to come through for people. It's
>> the knowledge not so much of so much dissapointed as it is of so much
>> signified. It all just washes over him. It's a feeling I, on the other
>> side of a bad marriage that started out so cocky and strong understood
>> completely and Kesey, writing in retrospect after the death of his son
>> explains better than anyone I've ever read. And then he, and I reading him,
>> are saved by a voice in his ear:
>>
>>
>> "Hey slick, is that look on your face for real?" It's the wild girl from
>> the last time he was here. Now sedate and waiting for her ride as well.
>>
>>
>> Kesey replies that it's about as real as it gets.
>>
>>
>> "Well good. If there's anything I despise it's a fake funk. What's got you
>> so down?"
>>
>>
>> He mumbles a brief non-answer and is interrupted by the girl grabbing a book
>> out of his bag that's all decorated and mandala'ed up the yinyang, and he
>> tells her that it's the chinese book of changes called the "I Ching".
>>
>>
>> "Burton or Erhard? I read the Erhard in the original German and it was so
>> different from the English translation that I figured if this much is lost
>> in translation from German to English, how much more ridiculous it would be
>> to expect any accuracy from the Chinese to the German. Last time I threw
>> the I Ching I threw it at my seeing eye dog who ate it. Being a German
>> Shepard he just couldn't resist something in his mother tongue."
>>
>>
>> Kesey, now intrigued more than a little asks her what that wild chant was
>> when she was admitted.
>>
>>
>> "Ah, that was Gary Snyder's Spel against Demons" but then she recognizes
>> Kesey from the back of a book cover and says "Far fucking out" - then
>> asks, author to author, some advice on dealing with the publisher of her new
>> book entitled, "Tits and Zits - Teenage Girl Genius Conquers the World"
>>
>>
>> Kesey, having experience with Pranksters figures his leg is being pulled,
>> stalls by asking her who her publisher is, fully ready to BS her with a
>> bunch of hokey verbiage if she names a big obvious publishing house, but
>> her reply of "Binford and Mort" , being a rather obscure and unheard-of
>> specialty house takes him aback and forces give her the lame but safe
>> advice, "Well I don't think you can go wrong following the advice of Binford
>> and Mort."
>>
>>
>> Her ride arrives and as she's getting up to leave, Kesey, feeling better,
>> asks her, "Hey Missy, just off the top of your IQ, what do YOU make of the
>> second law of Thermodynamics?"
>>
>>
>> A sly smile comes over her face and she leans next to his ear to almost
>> whisper,
>>
>>
>> "Entropy is only a problem in a closed system."
>>
>>
>> The story finishes with Kesey discovering the girl has left her donald duck
>> seeing eye cane, and sees that it will make the perfect gift for his son.
>> And everybody will admire it and want one and ask for it and not find it
>> till one day, almost as if by magic, you'll go to Disneyland and it will be
>> there.
>>
>>
>> A great story, but that tagline of Entropy being a problem in a closed
>> system just lit me up like a lightbulb. I knew what he meant and it took
>> the dark lid of suffering off my life in a way that few words have. A few
>> words, fitly spoken are like apples of gold on platters of silver. And you
>> can quote me on that. I walked out of that library and into the evening and
>> decided to do something different for a change. I went to a bible study.
>> I'd had an invitation from this guy I knew, and I also had had an invitation
>> from this girl I liked, and I figured two different invitations to the same
>> event MEANT something, ya know? Not that I needed a lot of bible study.
>> Being subjected to an Adventist education is basically the equivalent of 12
>> years of seminary. Them Adventists are keen on "biblical accuracy" and I
>> figured that the last thing I needed was more training in a system I didn't
>> accept anymore.
>>
>>
>> But the first thing I needed was some sort of social life to offset my
>> loneliness. So I went. And there I met Bill.
>>
>>
>> Bill, who ended up as my best friend, roomate, introduced me to his best
>> friend/ex-girlfriend, whom I married, was asked to be my best man at my
>> wedding, even as I was asked to be his and went through so many adventures I
>> can't recount them all. And certainly not now at the end of this long short
>> story... But it all came about from the seeds planted by words on a page,
>> and the serendipitiousness of living in a non-closed system that came to me
>> when I needed them most.
>>
>>
>> Bill has always been primarily a math-physics-computer-oriented kind of guy,
>> so he was the perfect audience that evening for my excited recitation of
>> Maxwell's Demon Box and how it all fit together so perfectly for me. He
>> liked it a lot. I felt that I'd found a soul mate just because he
>> understood.
>>
>>
>> I have always been a bit more poetically oriented myself, more on the
>> romantic than the classic side of things, so I was the perfect audience for
>> Bill's story as well, which he introduced to me by saying, "That's really
>> cool that you're into all that stuff. Most people have no idea what I'm
>> talking about when I mention that I'm Neal Cassady's grandson."
>>
>>
>>
>> John Carl
>>
>>
>> Out on the road today, I saw a deadhead sticker on Cadillac
>>
>> A little voice inside my head said don't look back you can never look back.
>>
>> I thought I knew what love was, what did I know?
>>
>>
>> Those days are gone forever, I should just let them go...
>>
>>
>> Don Henley, Boys of Summer
>>
>>
>> Amen
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